In my dream the showers built into the old refrigerators have too many bugs so I make my way back through the basement looking at all the sanded and polished wooden scraps, thinking about how I need to incorporate them in my work.

In my dream I start to find the portfolios stuffed with my work after R had told me that they were all gone, thrown out over the summer. My corn cob pipe collection is hung from a drying rack below them, I glimpse some of my zines and sketches.

In my dream wooden slats line the walls. The score is toted up while balls get tossed at the hole.bthebelevator lurches. A sign is decoded: the invasion is starting on May 5.

In my dream we have lost the community link a day early, as we prepare to depart. The last couple of us walk back and forth attempting to exchange the information that will keep us in touch. Later, this is recounted in a series of orange comic panels next to the shop with the dining counter.

In my we talk gently. My arm is uncovered.

In my dream we’ve been pushing into the mound before it illuminates. I turn away into the louder discussion and buy some pastry.

In my dream I wake up at 4am and walk north to find breakfast at a diner.

In my dream I have a nemesis “I want you to know at the end of it all I don’t like you.”

In my dream  the bust is by the side of the door of the newly bought house near the script .